


make my heart a better place

by defiersofthestars



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Babysitting, Ben Solo Needs A Hug, Bookshop, F/M, First Dance, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Prompt Fic, Reading, Reading Aloud, Uncle Ben is so soft and Rey Niima loves it, Uncle!Ben
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:02:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28282122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/defiersofthestars/pseuds/defiersofthestars
Summary: “Oh, and here is my Uncle Ben!” Emma says before swiftly turning the screen to his face.Ben nearly chokes on his own tongue, but finally manages to blurt out, “Goodevnin.” Two things he now knows for sure:1. Rey Niima is definitely not an elderly woman; quite the contrary, she looks just a bit younger than him.2. Rey Niima is very, very beautiful.Based on the prompt by wonderful @galacticidiots: Ben is babysitting his niece and she begs him to FaceTime Rey so she can read her a bedtime story. He’s never met her but as soon as the call connects, he’s completely transfixed. He doesn’t tell her when the kid falls asleep because he doesn’t want her to stop reading.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 38
Kudos: 232
Collections: Galactic Idiots Collection, Reylo Prompt Fills (@reylo_prompts)





	make my heart a better place

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BensCalligraphySet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BensCalligraphySet/gifts).



> Thank you so much @Psyclodelik for beta this story! I'm eternally grateful.
> 
> [](https://ibb.co/VDTN9tB)  
> A wonderful moodboard by @bensoloswhore :*

More than anything in the world, Ben Solo hates feeling powerless. In everyday life, it usually happens when

  1. he is stuck in a traffic jam;
  2. he has to choose flowers for women;
  3. he deals with a crying kid – or someone’s tears in general.



He has to confront them one by one the day he arrives at his cousin Kaydel’s place: she asked him to babysit her six-year-old daughter Emma this weekend. It takes him 50 minutes for a 20 minute trip, and before that he also had to watch florist Rose (aka his friend Armi’s girlfriend) giggling at him being clearly confused at the sight of the endless fields of roses, lilies, dahlias, alstroemerias ( _God, why does it sound like a terrible disease?_ ) and carnations of all colors in her flower shop.

_“Sunflowers!”_ Kaydel smiles when he finally walks through the door, handing her a bouquet. “They’re so beautiful, Ben, thank you!”

“Thank Rose,” Ben mutters under his breath, kissing her cheek. His life would be easier if he hadn’t found out about all these special meanings of flowers and floral arrangements that could easily get you from a declaration of love to an expression of sorrow. Sunflowers, as Rose explained, symbolize adoration, loyalty and longevity, making them a perfect gift for Emma.

“Uncle Ben!”

She runs to him with her arms thrown open wide. Ben catches her and lifts into the air before pressing to his chest, smiling at her genuine laugh. “Hi, princess.”

“You brought me flowers,” she notes with a smug look, pulling away from him, her blue eyes sparkling. He switches to support her weight on one arm, his free hand stroking her golden locks.

“As agreed.”

He lost a bet to her last month when they tried to guess the ending of the new episode of her favorite animated series, _The Adventures of Little Droids_. Emma is only six, but she could never forget the promise someone made to her.

“You’re a real man,” she tells him with all seriousness, and he kisses her tiny knuckles.

“Thank you.”

Freeing herself from his embrace, Emma storms away to the kitchen to have a closer look at the flowers that her mother has already put in a vase. Ben pulls off his shoes and steps aside to make a path for Kaydel with a large bag over her shoulder.

“Alright,” she says, her phone in her hand buzzing with texts from her impatient friends, “I made some food for you two and put it in containers in the fridge. You know the rules – more vegetables, less candies…”

“...and lights out at eight thirty,” Ben finishes. “Don’t worry, Kay, I know.”

Kaydel has already asked him to babysit with Emma before, and since the girl can _tell_ him clearly what she wants instead of whimpering and crying (and almost making _him_ sob in despair as well), everything seems much easier. To be honest, he admires his cousin: she raises Emma on her own, with little help from her ex-husband who always prefers to send money instead of showing himself at her small apartment.

“You’re my hero, Ben. I mean it,” Kaydel says. “I haven’t seen Finn and Poe for ages! And they spent _three months_ in the jungles of Ajan Kloss, can you believe it?! It’s definitely worth this huge party at the _Yavin Resort_.

“And,” she adds, playfully punching his arm, “I want you to be prepared for fatherhood as well as possible.”

He snorts: he is 26, and the women he has dated until now can be counted on the fingers of one hand.

“Most women are idiots,” Kaydel informs him with an exasperated sigh. “You’re a dream, Ben. Emma tells everyone who will listen how cool you are.”

He doesn’t blush, of course, instead feeling warmth blooming in his chest and tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Emma!” Kaydel calls for her daughter. “Tell me, is Uncle Ben cool?”

“Yeah!” she willingly replies, peeking out the kitchen door. “And not just because he brought me flowers.”

“Did you hear that? From the mouths of babes… Okay, honey, mommy is leaving! Come here, let me kiss you… Good. Listen to Uncle Ben, okay? Okay? Have fun, my sweeties!”

She waves at them and leaves.

.

Ben and Emma find themselves on the couch in the sitting room after dinner (they had fish, vegetables and just _one_ tiny piece of chocolate that they promised each other to keep secret). Emma is drawing, sprawled out on her stomach next to him, while Ben chooses to watch a documentary about Coruscant architecture after surfing Netflix.

“Ben! Do they look like cinnamon rolls?” Emma asks him, her angelic face concerned. He shifts his gaze from the screen to the sheet of paper she shows him.

“Pretty close,” he replies after studying a pile of brown swirls dotted with white glitter. Emma looks satisfied.

“Great! Miss Niima will like it.”

“Who is miss Niima? You never told me about her.”

“Ohhh, she’s so nice! She works at _Jocasta Bookstore_ , she likes reading to children aloud and she has a lovely voice! And,” Emma points at her drawing, “she bakes _deliciousss_ cinnamon rolls. Mommy, she and I are now friends. I’m sure you would like her!”

“She bakes delicious cinnamon rolls? No doubt,” chuckles Ben. Listening to Emma, he imagines a chubby elderly woman with curly gray hair, large glasses and a warm smile who looks like his parents’ friend Mrs. Kanata. When he was a kid, she often brought him fruit from her garden (and her homemade cherry liqueur for his parents).

“I’ll also draw a cup of hot chocolate,” decides Emma and reaches out for pencils, humming under her breath. Ben dimples at her before returning to the documentary.

Afterwards, he will tell himself he should have known it was all too good to last.

“It’s sleepy time, Emma,” he says, covering her with a blanket at 8:30. She shakes her head, her long hair fanning out on the pillow.

“Please, Uncle Ben, read me a bit!”

She points at the book on her desk. _Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone_.

“It’s a good story. But aren’t you too young?” Ben asks, arching his eyebrow. Emma looks purely affronted.

“My mom and miss Niima don’t think so. And I didn’t even peep when Harry freed that boa! It was _soooo_ cool.”

Her smile can be described as both evil and satisfied. Ben shakes his head but finds this argument valid. He takes the book and sits down on a stool by her pillow.

He can’t remember the last time he read a book aloud. Maybe when he was of a similar age to Emma and his parents were absent again. Anyway, it appears to be more difficult than he had imagined, because Emma starts to interrupt him from the very beginning, each time sounding more and more disappointed.

“Not so fast! I’m trying to imagine the train…”

“Why are you so calm when he’s _happy_?”

“Uncle Ben, why are you so serious? It’s a fairytale!”

She has absolutely no intention to fall asleep, instead looking at him with her eyes glistening and lips trembling, and Ben feels a knot of panic tightening in his throat. It’s been more than several months since he saw her crying, and now he feels like a monster. A _powerless_ and stupid monster.

“Am I really too serious, my flower?”

“Yes!” Emma slams her small fist into the blanket, looking betrayed. “It’s a story about a wizarding school, then you should be like a wizard!”

He blinks at her and looks down at the page where he stopped. “Like a wizard...”

Emma nods, flashing him an encouraging smile, but when he opens his mouth again, she _sobs_. Loudly. Ben runs a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of disapproving gazes from a flock of plush porgs nested on Emma’s dresser.

A brilliant idea comes to his mind, and he wastes no time to share it, squeezing the book with hope.

“I’ll call your mom, and she’ll read to you, okay?”

It dies when she firmly shakes her head. “She told me she couldn’t wait to see her friends! She deserves some rest.”

Emma has a point. Ben tries again, ready to break more of Kaydel’s rules if necessary.

“Then maybe we could watch one more episode of _The Adventures,_ mmm? Or maybe even… a _Harry Potter_ movie?”

Emma sighs in response to this generous offer, wiping tears from her rosy cheeks with the back of her hand, and he gets pinned in place by the desperate look of her wet eyes.

“I want to _listen_ to _Harry Potter_! Uncle Ben…”

The plea in her voice could make the book itself speak. Suddenly she beams at him and lifts herself up to a sitting position.

“Call Miss Niima! She told my mom she was always ready to read to me.”

“Emma…” Ben starts to say and pauses. Seems like it’s not the best time to explain to the kid that sometimes people promise something without actually meaning it. Being there for you when you need it, for example.

“It’s Friday night. She can be busy.”

“She said she enjoyed spending Friday nights at home with a book or two!” the girl counters. “And that she could read to me, because we’re _friends_. Please, _please_ , Uncle Ben!”

She shifts to touch his arm, her blue eyes wide open and features pleading.

Ben has no intention of disturbing a strange woman just because he can’t read his niece a story the way she wants him to – but he doesn’t want Emma to go to sleep in tears either. Eventually, this dilemma moves him forward to the next level of Kaydel’s promised course in fatherhood.

“Your mother’s gonna kill us, you know,” he wryly informs his niece. “Or just me, because she loves you more.”

“She _won’t_!” giggles Emma, clutching at his broad shoulder with her tiny fingers and bouncing on her bed with excitement. Ben groans, pulling out his phone, and can’t help but smile when Emma leans in and loudly kisses his cheek, her locks tickling his jaw.

“Do you know her phone number?”

“Mommy put the note on the counter in the corridor!” Emma replies enthusiastically. When he comes back, she has already returned under the blanket and folded her arms on her chest, looking the very image of obedience.

“Alright, found it. But you will explain this _Harry Potter_ stuff yourself!” Ben hands her his phone, trying to look strict despite it probably being too late.

“Oh, no problem,” Emma waves her free hand, just like Kaydel, before chirping cheerfully, “Hi, Miss Niima! It’s Emma Connix…”

Several minutes later, during which Emma asked questions about the bookstore and told about everything that happened to her in the past few days, as well as Ben’s _shameful inability_ to read the book as it deserves, he watches her switch to FaceTime.

“Hi again, Miss Niima!” she says, beaming at the screen. The voice Ben hears from the dynamics is surprisingly young and sonorous.

“Hi, angel. I’m ready.”

“Oh, and here is my Uncle Ben!” Emma says before swiftly turning the screen to his face.

Ben nearly chokes on his own tongue, but finally manages to blurt out, “ _Goodevnin._ ” Two things he now knows for sure:

  1. Rey Niima is _definitely not_ an elderly woman; quite the contrary, she looks just a bit younger than him.



  1. Rey Niima is very, very beautiful. The light from the phone screen emphasizes her perfect skin and eyes, either green or brown, smiling at him along with pink lips. The strands of thick chestnut hair frame her smooth features, their ends curling at the collar of her white shirt.



“Good evening, Mister Solo. Nice to meet you.”

He objectively notices that Emma was right: her voice is lovely.

“The pleasure is mine,” he says, taking his phone from Emma. “Thank you for your help.”

Miss Niima shrugs in response and leans closer to her front camera with a roguish smirk; he notices nice freckles that dot her nose. “What a good chance to reread a good book, huh?”

The teasing image of the double of Mrs. Kanata flashes in Ben’s mind.

“Right.”

He carefully leans the phone against the night-light on Emma’s nightstand and shifts his stool away, so miss Niima can’t see him, but he still has an unobstructed view of her face.

Her voice rises and falls, full of feeling and the magic appropriate to the story she reads aloud. She sounds softer when she reads for female characters and deeper when it’s the male characters’ turn. Ben can’t help but feel the goose bumps of excitement and delight along with those children who see the school of wizardry, a huge, beautiful castle, for the first time and listen to the song of a sentient hat and then find themselves attending the most amazing feast in their lives.

Miss Niima plays with her eyebrows, frowns, smiles and giggles and even gesticulates without taking her eyes off her own copy of _Harry Potter_. The story comes alive in this small bedroom, all flowers, and drawings, and porgs, but he can literally see here the students and the ghosts, along with Rey’s shining image on the screen, charming and vivacious.

They both miss when Emma, satisfied at last, falls asleep, her hands clasped together under her cheek. Miss Niima keeps reading in the same magical manner, completely lost in the story, and Ben can’t see any reason to stop her, following the call of her magnificent voice. That’s why he starts when, several minutes (or maybe hours) later, she finally falls silent.

“Mister Solo, are you here?” she calls quietly, unable to see him. “Is Emma sleeping?”

Glancing at his niece’s peaceful face, Ben hastily stands up and takes the phone in his hand.

“Yes. Sorry, I got carried away.”

She chuckles quietly, as he turns off the night-light and leaves the room, closing the door behind him.

“It’s fine. I couldn’t stop myself either.”

“And I’m really sorry for disturbing you on Friday night, but you saved my life. _I mean it_ , Miss Niima,” he stresses, shaking his head.

“It’s fine. I love Emma, she’s a wonderful girl,” she says, bringing a yellow mug to her lips. “And please, call me Rey – I’m not so old as you might think.”

Mrs. Kanata winks at him from the depths of his memory, and Ben feels his ears burning.

“Okay, Rey. Then call me Ben,” he replies, sitting down on the couch in the sitting room. “Emma described you to me as a real fairy godmother, but, given her description of _me_ , you probably expected to see a grumpy old man who rejects fairytales. To be honest, I felt like that after failing to be a wizard, as she had asked me.”

She laughs, covering her mouth with her hand, and he finds himself smiling again.

“Well, you’re not too far off wrong. But she had also told me you love playing board games together and watching cartoons, and that you helped her put the star on the top of the Christmas tree the year before. And that still, you were _too serious_ ,” she takes another sip, her eyebrows rising.

“Well, I’m supposed to be serious.”

“Are you the Queen?”

He smirks. “Nope, just a product manager.”

“Oh, yes, Emma told me you knew everything about cars!” she says, saluting with her mug. “ _Corellia_ , right? Do you get extra bonuses for always being serious?”

“No, it’s just…” he gestures vaguely with one hand. "So much work. And I doubt that my colleagues would appreciate me talking about cars in the same way that you read _Harry Potter_."

“You'll never know until you try,” Rey reminds him. He can’t hold back a chuckle, imagining the faces Armi and Phasma would make at him in the conference room.

“You already have my number, so I will be waiting for a report,” she adds teasingly, her eyes smiling at him.

Ben’s smile, on the contrary, freezes on his face. For a moment, he gets overwhelmed by a tangled mix of emotions: genuine mirth after them exchanging jokes, surprise at her last reply and then, painful in its inevitability, frustration.

His heart has always been quick to form an attachment to anyone who would express nothing but a hint of pleasure to be in his company. _I’m enough_ , he would tell himself, only to probably add later, _until they’ll find better._ He spent many years training his heart to lower its expectations and accept that dull pain when the other side wouldn’t respond in kind even long, long after.

He hadn’t underestimated the number of his girlfriends earlier today, but it again became too easy for him to believe this beautiful woman, Rey Niima, could like him despite what she knew and heard… despite what she was seeing now.

Suddenly he becomes more self-conscious than ever of his own sharp features – the strong nose and the big mouth, the moles dotting his cheeks and forehead – as well as the fact she knows he was unable to lull a little girl to sleep and had to ask a stranger for help.

“I have your number?” he repeats automatically, lost in his dark thoughts. Rey’s smile fades, as she notices a crease appearing between his brows; he can swear she’s blushing.

“Yes… this is your phone, right? I was joking, by the way,” she adds quickly, grabbing her mug one more time and lowering her gaze, hiding her face between her locks. Ben, in turn, feels himself unbearably stupid.

“My phone. Sure. I’m sorry, it’s been a tough week.”

He is a bit relieved when she raises her head and dimples at him. But this is just a faint ghost of her radiant smile, and he immediately blames himself for ruining whatever was growing between them – and then for the very thought there was something growing _at all_.

“It’s okay, I feel the same way.” Rey says, tapping her fingers on the mug. “It’s getting late, so… Goodnight, Ben.”

“Goodnight, Rey.”

She waves at him and ends the call. Ben stares at the screen for a couple of minutes longer and then adds her number to his contacts.

He was left alone many times – in his room when his parents worked late, in cafeterias, his _friends_ indifferently passing by, in chats with the very last goodbye’s followed by heart emojis. But what astounds him most is how his heart defies the pain of unworthiness again and again, refusing to finally bow down in welcome. _Maybe the next time will be different,_ it claims with bravado and rushes forward.

But Ben is stubborn and now holds it back. Because, after all, it was a call for Emma and her book.

.

By his standards, Emma wakes him up on Saturday morning far too early. But, as an active and cheerful six-year-old (and her mother's daughter), she has her own concept of time.

“Uncle Ben, wake up! It’s time for breakfast, and I want to go to the park!” she shakes his arm through the blanket, sounding extremely loud for 10 a.m. He moans, pulling the blanket over his head.

“Don’t you want to watch some cartoons before?” he suggests groggily, eyes still closed.

“I already did,” she replies quickly, and he feels her climb on the couch and try to wrap her thin arms around his shoulders. “I’m hungry, and Mommy forbid me to touch milk after I spilled it on the floor last week.”

Ben yawns, finally fully awake, and lets her pull the blanket down and put her chin on his arm.

“You look funny,” she giggles, pointing at his ruffled raven locks. He brushes them away from his face and tilts his head at her.

“Well, we can’t all be princesses with hair like golden silk, you know.”

Emma’s smile becomes wider when he taps her nose with his index finger. She’s so warm and tiny against his side, with no hints of yesterday’s tears on her smooth cheeks, and he is glad to see that his niece still loves him. He can’t stop himself from tickling her ribs through her long pink nightgown; with a funny squeak, she jumps off the couch and runs to the kitchen. He follows her, stretching out his arms and yawning again.

“Did you sleep well after _Harry Potter_?” he asks after making them both bowls of cereal. Emma nods, crunching on her mix of milk and fruity loops.

“And did _you_ listen to Miss Niima, Ben?” she asks, and he arches his eyebrow to remind her not to speak with her mouth full. She swallows before saying, “ _She_ is a real wizard!”

“Yes, she is,” he replies shortly, taking one more bite of his cereal, suffocating the first signs of the familiar flutter of anticipation in his chest. _You’ve been there before, remember?_

“Do you like her?” Emma asks.

He almost chokes and dabs at his mouth with a napkin, but her look at him is just a bit curious. He clears his throat.

“I think so, yes. She can read to you the way you like, after all.”

Emma rolls her eyes, looking both funny and serious. “Nooo, I mean, you saw her and you talked… Do you like her as a woman?”

Although Ben is in no position to teach Kaydel how to raise her daughter, it seems like, for now, she shouldn’t leave her women’s magazines where Emma could find them.

“Um… I only saw her once,” he replies carefully, knowing that every word could be used against him later. “But I think she’s nice. And she is a good friend. Now, eat your cereal if you want to go to the park today.”

Forgetting about Rey, Emma is quick to obey.

.

It’s sunny today, a warm summer wind caressing the grass in the park, as Ben and Emma walk down the main alley, her small hand holding his, her hair done in a crown braid. Ben had braided her hair when she was younger, encouraged and moved by her content gurgles, but now he was glad to hear those words directly from her.

_“Please, Uncle Ben, can you braid my hair?”_

**_This_** _is what he is definitely good at,_ he thought with pure relief, as he sat behind her on the couch, gently tugging on her long hair and weaving it into a simple yet elegant pattern. Emma was quiet, waiting patiently as he had asked, and it made his heart bloom with warmth and love for this little human being, both sweet and chaotic.

He buys her cotton candy (‘ _Only one, or you’ll get sick!’_ ) and then watches her playing with other kids on a large playground. He smirks when a boy her age blushes from his toes to his crown and hurriedly leaves swings to let her play with them. Emma nods at him and smiles, and the boy hurriedly marches towards a seesaw, looking deeply shocked. Ben mentally wishes him good luck in the future.

Later, after replying to Kaydel’s text that everything is fine, he sees Emma approaching him.

“Do you want to go home?” he asks, straightening a pink flower pin in her braid. Emma shakes her head.

“It’s too early. But I want to visit Miss Niima!”

Ben’s hand freezes above her head. Not that her request surprises him – on the contrary, it would be even better if Emma personally thanked Rey for reading her last night. And still, one thought about a chance to meet her in person does something strange to his chest, tugging at the strings he thought he had tamed this morning.

“ _Jocasta Bookstore_ is not far away from here,” Emma explains, seeing his hesitation. “Her shift ends soon. And I have my drawings with me!” she points at the small backpack over her shoulders.

Ben suspiciously narrows his eyes at her. “You planned it and didn’t tell me?”

“I thought you wouldn’t mind,” she shrugs, putting on her angelic expression. “You said you liked her.”

“I didn’t-” Ben stops himself before he can say something stupid and sighs. “Fine.”

She beams and takes his hand, dragging him away from the park. He’s not even surprised again, when a few minutes later Emma stops by a flower shop.

“And I think we should buy her flowers, Uncle Ben,” she suggests, going all doe-eyed. “That would be really nice, right?”

“And which flowers does Re… Miss Niima like?” he asks, now fully accepting the fact that somehow _he_ keeps listening to _her_ , although Kaydel said otherwise.

Emma thinks a little, her brows furrowed. “She said she loved all flowers… maybe a florist will help!”

Ben leaves negotiations to her and intervenes only once when, hearing Emma’s description of Rey (“ _she’s kind and pretty, with a nice smile!_ ”), the florist asks, her voice frankly playful, if flowers are for his girlfriend.

“Just for an acquaintance,” he says before Emma can open her mouth, “so this means something neutral – and no roses, I suppose.”

Emma just sighs, making the florist smirk and Ben’s ears flushing under his hair. He doesn’t know if Rey knows anything about meanings of flowers, but Rose’s words about different roses meaning various kinds of love are still vivid in his memory.

Finally, they choose freesias – pink, yellow, and purple, for admiration, friendship, and beauty respectively. Nothing pretentious, only sweet fruity smell _(“Just like our favorite fruit loops!”_ Emma exclaims in amusement _)_ and delicate, soft petals. Ben would never admit that he imagines Rey looking at the flowers and smiling just like yesterday – with dimples on her cheeks and her nose wrinkling, both funny and endearing.

“You’ll give them to her yourself, okay?” he tells Emma when they leave the shop, a bouquet in her small hands looking more voluminous than it is. “Miss Niima is _your_ friend.”

She sniffs flowers with a dreamy look. “Fine.”

Ben nods, satisfied with this tiny piece of power Emma bestows on him.

_Jocasta Bookstore_ occupies two floors of the elegant historical building made of red bricks. Following Emma towards the main entrance, Ben can barely take his eyes off the exquisite high castles made of books in the arched store windows, each one unique, all of them are equally remarkable.

But this is just the beginning. Inside the bookstore, every wall is made of shelving holding dozens, _hundreds_ of worlds waiting to be explored. Ben used to read a lot until he started working for _Corellia_ , and he hasn’t been in a bookstore _for ages_ , but now he feels the childish impatience awakening inside him, each colorful spine teasing, and calling, and promising a new adventure where he could be anything he wants.

But Emma moves too fast between rows and piles of books on low tables, and he is too afraid to lose her in this maze of paper wonders, promising himself to get to them later.

Passing by art, travel and history sections, they enter the part of the store dedicated to young adult and children’s literature. There are full bookshelves lined up on his left and a reading zone on his right, kids and teenagers lounging there on colorful beanbag chairs with books and phones in their hands. Above them, there are colorful pictures on a white wall that Ben recognizes as illustrations to the most famous children’s novels.

Somewhere in the depth of this kingdom of stories, Emma finds its queen. “Hi, Miss Niima!”

Ben swallows, feeling his knees turn to damn jelly, as he slowly makes his way towards the bookshelves a little further. Emma stands between two of them, Rey squatting to kiss her cheek, her hands on her thin shoulders. Today her chestnut hair is done in triple buns down the back of her head, and this makes her look a bit adventurous.

“What a lovely surprise, my dear,” she says with a wide smile that makes Ben’s heart skip a beat. He loiters by the closest bookshelf, telling himself to calm the hell down and stop acting like a teenager.

“Thank you for reading me _Harry Potter_ last night, miss Niima. This is for you.” Emma hands her the bouquet, and Rey gasps, raising her eyebrows in amazement.

“For me? God, this is so sweet, I absolutely _love_ freesias! Emma, my beauty, thank you,” she kisses her again, while Emma is quick to add in a hushed tone, turning at his direction:

“Uncle Ben and I chose them together!”

This is when Rey finally looks up. Her smile becomes more soft than funny, as she slowly rises to her full height, holding his gaze. She’s wearing beige flats, white skinny jeans that show off her slender long legs and a scarlet uniform T-shirt.

“Hi Ben,” Rey says and rounds Emma, holding out her hand, the other pressing the bouquet to her chest. He slowly approaches her, his fingers brushing hers before he engulfs her hand in his larger one. It feels warm and smooth against his palm, as he gives it up and down.

“Hi Rey,” he replies, noticing that her eyes are rather dark green, with rich amber rings around her pupils that grow wider. She studies him too, her chin raised, making no attempt to pull her hand back.

“Thank you for the flowers.”

“It was a team effort,” he says with a calm expression, the exact opposite of what he feels bubbling inside him.

Her smile turns into a grin. “So they pay you for always being serious, after all?”

Emma giggles, staying behind her back. This sound brings Ben back to the crowded bookstore, his own niece watching him holding Rey’s hand for too long than it’s necessary, and he releases it with a tiny smile quirking his lips. He focuses on the sounds of the pages rustling and the customers’ voices around them, things so far from that fascinating gemstone depth of her eyes – for his own sake.

“We are going to eat burgers in the park,” Emma cheerfully informs Rey. “Would you like to join us, miss Niima?”

“I…” Rey pauses. Her smile tenses, as she switches her gaze from Emma to Ben again, “I don’t want to intrude…”

“You won’t! Right, Uncle Ben?”

A shrug is all he can do. “We don’t have any specific plans for the rest of the day.”

“Except for burgers!” Emma corrects him. Considering their words, Rey nods.

“Then I’ll take the flowers home and join you at _Eisley Burgers_ in forty, okay?”

Ben raises his eyebrows in surprise. “How do you…”

She tilts her head at him.

“Honestly, Ben, everybody knows they have the best burgers. _The First Order’s_ meals are as expensive as inedible.”

“Right.” He couldn’t find the best description for this trendy place. Bazine broke up with him last year when he said he wouldn’t spend his money on the brand mush suitable only for Instaholo.

Noticing the expression of pure delight on Emma’s features that she’s eager to let out, Ben quickly presses his finger to his mouth. She makes a short victory dance instead, and Rey barely holds back a laugh, hiding her face in the flowers.

.

Rey meets them at the diner 40 minutes later, with her hair hung loose in soft waves, finally free from elastics. She changed out of her uniform T-shirt into a sleeveless gray top with a V-shaped neckline and glittering chiffon draping criss-crossed in front.

_She is beautiful_ , Ben says to himself, surrendering to this truth, simple as the fact that the sun rises to the east. However, her top is not what thrills Emma most of all.

_“The watermelon purse!”_ she cries out, running to hug Rey again. She laughs, her head thrown back, adjusting her remarkable accessory on her shoulder.

“I’m glad you love it, dear.”

“So much!” Emma assures her, smiling from ear to ear.

They order burgers, French fries and lemonade. Emma gives a toast _, “Let mommy know that we can have fun too!”_ before they clink their bottles. She finally remembers about her drawing of cinnamon rolls and hot chocolate and gets rewarded by one more kiss from Rey.

“I promise you, Uncle Ben, I’ll leave you one cinnamon roll once miss Niima bakes them!”

“ _Just one_?” he raises his eyebrows in mock disbelief. “You told me they were _delicious_.”

“Ummmm…” Emma averts her gaze from him, suddenly becoming preoccupied with a long stick of French fries in her hand, but Ben doesn’t back off. Rey watches them contently, eating her blue cheese burger without leaving a crumb.

When they finally agree to _two_ rolls, Emma turns her head so Rey could see her crown braid better and asks shyly, “Miss Niima, do you like my hair?”

This little woman… Ben struggles not to roll his eyes at her innocent look, finishing his chicken burger and reaching for a napkin. Rey is quick to fix her mistake.

“God, how could I miss it? Your hair is always amazing, but this looks great!” she shakes her head at Emma’s crown braid. “Did you do it yourself?”

“No. It was Uncle Ben.”

The look Rey gives him is both surprised and impressed. “You’re an extraordinary man, Ben.” There is no flirting but rather a statement of fact. He fails to decipher something else flashing in her eyes when she says that before she takes a sip of her lemonade and turns her attention to French fries. He runs his hand through his hair, suddenly feeling warmer despite the air conditioning.

Ben and Rey don’t talk to each other directly, letting Emma moderate the discussion. Among the most important questions is Rey’s long reading list, Ben’s work, and which burgers the _Harry Potter_ characters would prefer. By the time they leave the diner, Ben is the only one who stands against _Bertie Bott's_ sauce in burgers, both Emma and Rey failing to change his mind. A long walk in the park seems indicated after such a serious, deep conversation, and they walk down the alleys, eating ice cream and wondering aloud about Finn and Poe’s adventures in Ajan Kloss.

“Mommy told me they probably have eaten _bugs_! Can you believe it?” Emma winces, looking at her vanilla ice cream with an expression of pure love and trust.

“And what would you say about bugs flavored sauce in your burger now?” Ben quips and laughs when she shakes her head with a loud _ewwwww_. Rey, now outnumbered, grimaces in response to his innocent shrug.

Slowly, they approach a large dancing ground, couples, children and whole families moving there in their own rhythms, sometimes ignoring the music.

“Do you want to dance too?” Ben asks, noticing Emma’ glances towards a group of kids who jump, and twirl, and swing their arms laughing and squealing to one of the songs by Taylor Swift. She nods, licking her lips and practically trembling with anticipation. He quickly scans the kids for possible threats and finally nods.

“We’ll wait for you here. Go.”

“Thanks!” she quickly wraps her arms around his legs and rushes forward to join the kids, leaving Ben on the edge of the ground together with other parents. Rey joins him on a wooden bench a minute later, tapping her fingers in rhythm with the song.

Ben chuckles, folding his arms over his chest and nodding at Emma. “So much energy…”

Rey’s smile touches her eyes, as she follows his gaze. “Emma is lucky to have you,” she says. “I don't think I know anyone else who would spend Saturday with a little girl without pulling out his phone every five minutes.”

“I’m tired of my phone,” Ben admits to her. “I practically can’t put it down on weekdays.”

“Why?”  
  


“We have a big event coming up, and I get enough calls and email notifications on a daily basis to develop a twitch. Besides,” he gestures towards Emma, “I don’t want her to feel hurt just because her dad is a prick. She is my family.”

Rey’s eyes glue to the dancing ground. “Some people would find this argument weak.”

“And they would be stupid,” Ben is quick to reply. “The worst thing any person could feel is abandonment. I want Emma to know she’s worth time and effort, and that she can always count on family.”

Considering his words, Rey just nods. Soft afternoon sunlight caresses her hair, and it shines gold, while a thin fabric on her slim shoulders glitters silver like stardust. She looks calm, mouthing lyrics, absolutely unaware what such an image of her, wrapped in light and summer warmth, does to Ben’s heart. He feels it speeding up in his chest, sending a wave of trembling down to his fingers that still remember the touch of her hand.

He can barely hear the music and people’s voices, captivated by this new feeling, different from both simple admiration and the attachment he had exposed himself being addicted to; when she’s so close, it seems to be a new kind of perception, feather-light and calming in its glow, and his soul reaches out to it like a true wonder. He doesn’t know how long he’s been sitting like that, ignoring alarm signals from his cautious mind, until…

“Uncle Ben!”

“Yes, dear, you thirsty?” he replies automatically, coming out of contemplation when Emma materializes in front of him. He hands her a bottle of water and she nods before taking a long drought from it.

“Jane said she had found cute videos with _Little Droids_ in the HoloNet. She promised to show us later!” she points at the group of chatting boys and girls her own age or a bit older.

“Okay.”

Emma hands him the bottle and turns to Rey. “You know, Jane also told me she and her older sister were adopted – just like you, miss Niima! Their adoptive parents are very kind and always read them at night.”

“Oh, it’s great,” Rey replies, her voice even and light-hearted. “Ask her to not spoil _Harry Potter_ for you.”

“They haven’t read it yet! Can you imagine?” Emma shakes her head before returning to the dancing ground.

“Perhaps I should ask _her_ not to spoil, huh?” Rey assumes half-jokingly, looking up at Ben. But he doesn’t register her question, instead following Emma with his gaze, trying to distract from the cold chill running down his spine and twisting his stomach in knots. _He didn’t know,_ he reminds himself, and still, despite his own appeal to logic, he feels a pang of guilt for not being careful enough. He is never _enough_ … (handsome, easy, funny – the ending may vary depending on a context.)

“Rey,” he finally encounters her eye, his voice regretful and quiet, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know about you when I spoke about family – and Emma, she’s just a little girl...”

Her bewildered frown fades away in a blink, replaced by a reassuring smile.

“Oh, Ben, it’s okay. Please don’t be sorry for being honest!” She reaches out to gently touch his arm, her tan hand small against his pale muscular shoulder. “What you said was right and didn’t hurt me. I wish I had had an uncle like you when I was a kid.”

There is so much kindness in her voice and eyes that he believes it’s true, she is not going to blame him for anything, and this realization loosens the knots inside him. Her fingers slide down to his elbow before she drops her hand and cranes her neck to glance at Emma who tries to dance with her arms and peer at the tablet in Jane’s hands along with the other kids huddling around them at the same time.

“She had many questions about adoption after watching some animated films _,_ ” Rey explains to him. “Kaydel and I answered most of them, and I shared my story with her to prove that a family can be much, much more than blood ties, and that your friends can surely be a part of it too.”

Ben knows there are many stories about orphanages that are much worse; but it seems like Rey was luckier, and this assumption makes him feel a little better.

Soon he finds himself smiling at the first notes of a new song, firm and yet ethereal sounds of piano sailing above the dancing ground. And Rey – Rey’s face lights up, as she straightens her spine, muttering under her breath, “ _Sleeping At Last_? They have taste here.“

“Do you like it?” she asks, nodding at him.

“I’m not familiar with their music, but I like good piano playing,” replies Ben, deciding to keep his love for Rachmaninoff’s concertos to himself for now. Rey chuckles.

“Well said,” she replies, slowly rocking to the music.

Perhaps Ben hasn’t eaten burgers for too long and today’s one made him festive, or the lemonade went to his head, or he was affected by the warmth of July – there is probably more than one possible explanation why he finds himself offering his hand to her and asking, “Want to dance?”

She blinks at him, and he continues, jerking his head towards Emma, “We can have some fun too, right?”

This is when her face finally breaks into a smile. “Right.”

Her fingers meet his again, and it’s really surprising how comfortable and right it feels, like they both were made to hold each other. Adjusting her purse over one shoulder, Rey follows him to the dancing ground. Ben hasn’t danced for more than the last 10 years, but he still remembers some basic dance moves he saw at school.

This song happens to be perfect for a dance with minimum efforts (Ben refuses to call it _slow_ ), but they don’t wrap their arms around each other, letting the music guide their tiny steps. Instead, joining their outstretched hands and locking their fingers, they move around each other deliberately slowly, raising and lowering their arms like waves, teasing the very idea of this dance being romantic. Rey’s lips quiver, as she tries to hold back a laugh and hold her chin high at the same time; Ben raises his eyebrows, trying to look serious, even solemn, as if they were on a ball. He also manages to sneak glances at Emma who is very easily spotted in her bright orange dress among other kids not so far from them.

_‘…Your love is my turning page_

_Where only the sweetest words remain_

_Every kiss is a cursive line_

_Every touch is a redefining phrase…’_ sings a high male voice, followed by piano, its chords both sweet and somber.

“Did your… your adoptive parents read you at night too?” Ben asks Rey, pulling her closer to him and then stepping back, reflecting on the yesterday’s night when her voice brought them all to the wizarding world. She shakes her head on the move, raising their hands.

“They were kind to me, but I was already too old to be read to and did it myself. There were also many scavenged books in my orphanage’s library, and I knew some of them by heart. Sometimes, especially if you read aloud, they help you feel less alone, you know.”

Their pasts were completely different, but Ben involuntarily remembers a house, enough for a family, too big for one boy and an old butler, Mr. Pio; a man who has the whole sky to fly; a woman who has a whole Department of Political Science to run; and the ancient family _Corellia Stellar_ rover in the garage, mysterious and attractive enough to make a teenager drop his books about space pirates and throw himself into machine construction.

It’s one split second, but he must have frowned again, because Rey tightens her grip on his fingers; she draws him closer to her and then leans back, following the music along with several more couples and groups. Her hazel eyes don’t leave his dark ones, as if looking right into his soul, and he feels his fingers tremble. His breath hitches, his legs moving automatically to the music from nowhere, the park around them just a green blur save for Emma, but Rey’s hands are his anchor, and, for now, everything becomes right.

She winks at him and says, her expression oddly conspiratorial, “Honestly, Ben… there is definitely something in reading aloud. You have _no idea_ how much children want to know the rest of the stories once I start reading them in the bookstore. Sometimes I think their parents are gonna kill me after work,” she plays her eyebrows, extremely proud of herself.

Although this note makes his vision clear again, this is not a painful return; he finds himself smiling for real, his eyes crinkling as laugh bursts from his chest. He vaguely notices Emma beaming at them, but he becomes too preoccupied with another idea to consider possible consequences. “Do you mind a twirl?”

She quirks a brow and quickly releases his one hand, while he raises the other to twirl her around, the ends of her iridescent draping almost brushing his jeans. She laughs, pressing her watermelon purse to her side, and comes back to him, catching his hand easily and without looking. He feels himself too big and clumsy around the majority of people, but something in her smiling freckled face makes him let this thought go away.

The faint floral smell of her perfume touches his nose, and this is when the song ends, along with their little fun. Rey steps back from him and curtsies, her cheeks pink, her smirk mischievous but lovely.

“I’m glad to know you’re not _so_ serious, Ben.”

Ben bows, pressing his hand to his chest, his breath surprisingly fast.

“I just love piano,” he says, and she laughs again.

_It’s just one dance,_ he mercilessly reminds his heart that protests with its every beat, _and one day._

Standing at the edge of the ground and watching Ben and Rey dancing, Emma cheerfully claps her hands. Jane and some other kids turn to look at her, and seconds later loud _Awwww_ s can be heard along with the beeps of galactic droids.

“They’re like Disney prince and princess,” notices one girl, looking at Rey whose top sparkles in the sunlight, the draping over her legs like a silver veil. Ben, with his luscious dark locks and large form, barely can take his eyes off her for longer than a few seconds, his muscles rippling beneath his white T-shirt.

Emma considers what she knows about her friend and her uncle, as well as those Disney couples who absolutely had to confront evil stepmothers or sorcerers.

“Nah,” she says finally, “they’re much better.”

.

These weeks have been terribly crazy. Ben’s world gets sharply reduced to his office at the _Corellia_ headquarters and the upcoming launch of the new _Corellia_ _Falcon G8_ he, Armi and Phasma are responsible for. Now they three and the marketing team spend unbelievably long hours on conference calls with digital and PR agencies. While his co-workers focus on market research and sales forecast, he goes through what seems like _dozens_ of press releases, backgrounders, and fact sheets. He approves texts and images for posts for all _Corellia_ social media pages. He rewatches promo videos to make sure all mentioned technical characteristics are correct. He adds several interviews to his schedule and participates in a photo shoot with his team and _Corellia_ ’s CEO Amylin Holdo in a huge studio, next to their new ‘ _iron birds’_ of which he knows every bolt and component that guarantee the new levels of safety, technology and comfort.

Еven though the thought of introducing the _Falcons_ to the world fills him with pride and excitement, Ben wasn’t joking at all when he said he could get a twitch. The number of notifications on his phone is close to frightening, and he counts the days till the official press conference.

On one Friday night, he finds himself at the kitchen table in his apartment, checking his work email to make sure nothing new appeared when he was on his way home from the office. The steak he ordered from the _Canto Bight_ restaurant is his first meal in 10 hours, except for 1 cup of caf, 2 cups of tea and one protein bar.

Feeling himself human again as he chews the last bite of juicy meat lacquered with barbecue sauce, Ben groans. Somehow he missed the email from Nien Nunb from the digital agency who asked if he could crop the picture of the _Falcons_ for a website page.

Too tired to type, Ben decides to call him and remind him that firstly, NO _(they discussed it just yesterday, damn it)_ , and secondly, the marketing team is capable of answering his question too.

Pushing the empty plate away, he taps the screen and lazily scrolls through his contacts until reaches _N_ and taps again. He holds his phone to his ear only to look at the screen seconds later, still full of righteous irritation, and hurriedly hangs up. A loud _Kriff!_ echoes in the kitchen.

He hasn’t seen Rey Niima since last Saturday when they said goodbye to each other outside the park soon after Emma had gotten too tired. Rey had said she was leaving for Kijimi for several weeks to visit her friend from the orphanage, and he, in turn, barely had time for anything beside work and a few hours of sleep. Barely had time to find a good reason to get in touch with her either because, despite Emma’s bright enthusiasm and his own faint hope, it would lead to nowhere.

He swears again when he sees an incoming call from her, his heartbeat thundering in his ears, mouth dry at the memory of her eyes and warm hands holding his. Finally, he takes a deep breath and picks up the phone, clenching his free fist. “Hi.”

“Hi Ben!” hearing her smile, he has to fight the urge to smile too. “How are you doing? Are you trying to read to Emma again?”

“Oh, no,” he releases a dry chuckle, moving to the night window and looking at his own reflection, framed by yellow light from lamps, “I leave it to the professionals.”

She could have been busy when he called her. He needs to tell her the truth. It’s simple. _I made a mistake. I was going to call one idiot from work whose last name starts with N too._

The words are on the tip of his tongue, but then something stops him. What good is this truth to her? For them both, for that matter? He will be a fool whose brain has lost its function by week’s end. And she will probably be upset to hear she was remembered by accident.

Frankly, he would say nothing if it was for any other person too. He thinks so.

Rey laughs.

“Thank you. Speaking of professionals – I decided to learn more about the automobile industry and read _Wheels_ by Arthur Hailey. Ben, I… I don’t know what to start with…”

“Well, I can assure you _Corellia_ doesn’t cheat on the quality.”

“Good. I suspected that you wouldn’t let it happen anyway,” she replies with a snort, and he feels warmth flooding his cheeks. “But what I’m trying to say is that you’re _cool_. A car is like a living organism, and you know everything about its functions and organs and how they work together. _Wheels_ is a pretty old thing, and now, with telematics and autopilot, this must be even more interesting.“

He turns away from the window and goes to land on the couch, moving almost automatically as he listens to her gentle voice.

“Yes, it is,” his own words sound hoarse and low. Rey quickly wraps her speech.

“Sorry, you must’ve been so busy this week! Just one more thing – I also read some articles about the _Falcons,_ and I’m sure the new series is great. The end.”

He must’ve been really, really exhausted and needy for the simple words of support from someone who wouldn’t continue with _‘And now we need to discuss…’_ , because suddenly he feels tears pricking behind his eyes. He squeezes them shut, throwing his head back on the pillow, feeling his body finally relax.

“Thank you, Rey,” he lowers his voice almost to a whisper.

“You’re welcome, Ben,” she replies, as if she really cares about him.

“And how are you? Any angry parents spotted in Kijimi?” he quips, eyes still closed, finding a strange comfort in nothing but the very sound of her voice. Her chuckle tickles his ear.

“No, I’m safe here. But yesterday two teenagers actually started to fight over the last copy of _The Night Circus_ in the bookstore. Have you read it?”

“No. I barely have time to sleep. Tell me more?” he says, hearing the notes of hidden anticipation in her voice.

She is lavish in giving the book praises from _exciting_ to _mesmerizing_ , and he asks her questions to hear her voice, to get distracted from cars, to learn more about the thing _she_ talks about with such adoration and passion. He doesn’t notice when later they switch to discuss entertainment in general, as well as the effect of music on the brain. He stans classical composers; she fights for modern musicians. Their argument ends when Ben can’t hold back the third yawn in the last few minutes. It’s not that late but his eyelids are too heavy even for the soft power of Rey’s voice.

“Okay, let’s call that a tie,” Rey suggests, sounding weary too, and he agrees.

“Goodnight, Rey.”

“Goodnight, Ben.”

Rubbing his eyes, Ben finally sends _‘No’_ to Nunb before throwing his phone at the cushion and heading towards the shower. As he takes off his T-shirt, he catches a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror. He looks jaded, his hair a dark mess, his eyes lined by pale shadows, but there is definitely a smile hidden in the corners of his lips, left here by Rey.

_You know what she will do_ , his inner voice coldly reminds him. Ben frowns, shooing him away with valiant nonchalance.

It was one call.

.

And this call, however, does something strange to his mind deprived of such useful distractions as work for weekends. Ben finds himself thinking about Rey while making himself a cappuccino and reaching for a cinnamon shaker. Emma said her rolls were delicious, and he wonders what her pastries – or homemade pastries in general – could taste like. Watching a new documentary, he can’t help but compares the narrator’s voice to hers (she wins). Looking around his room, he starts wondering about _her_ apartment. There must be a huge bookcase, of course, or maybe two, and a special hook for her watermelon purse. And a vase with the freesias that gave her that smile and those sparks in her hazel eyes.

Somewhere in between meetings and documents he happens to find an escape in the memories of her and the way she made him feel – like the world around him suddenly became a better place. These memories are like a constellation that doesn’t fade even in the daylight, and he knows it won’t no matter what happens in the future, because this is Rey, and she doesn’t let him forget her, her place in his soul solid and clear.

He happens to find short texts in the evenings, with links to the modern piano pieces she thinks he would like, followed by lists of reasons why, or jokes about the posts tagged with the First Order location. _“Why do they paint cheese PURPLE?”_

Ben can’t help but smile seeing her name on the top of a notification. It’s really strange, but it has never been easier for him to shut up the inner voice that promises no good than when _Rey_ reaches out; and, what is more, neglecting her seems to be the most terrible thing he could do in his life. So he taps the screen, again and again.

He replies with links to classical compositions by which the modern ones could have been inspired. Sometimes, when his work becomes really crazy, he remembers not only Rey has funny stories about her customers, and the short excerpts from the weird emails from his co-workers turn out to be a treasure.

_“They said they wanted to make your Instaholo brighter and suggested GRAY aesthetics?”_

_“The slogan of yours could be Mr. Elegant Beauty??? Ben, I’m so sorry...”_

_“‘Never tell me the ods.’ Sounds cool, but I’m kinda missing the second D?!!!! Ugrhhhh”_

Neither of them talks about the possibility of a new meeting, but he becomes reckless enough to let himself wonder. Сould he ever make her smile at him without flowers, or texts, or anything save for his own hands and kisses? Would she let them dance again, this time with her hands wrapped around his neck, his own holding her waist? Thoughts in these directions bring a wave of a new sensation, warm and prickling, down his veins, and he runs his hand through his hair, holding back this growing avalanche.

Fortunately, he still has his job. There are so many perfectly long documents, and blessingly detailed Q&As, and meetings with Holdo herself. When time comes, Ben replays his part of the speech clearly and confidently, because he knows his _Falcons_ by heart, and Amilyn says in amusement it had been like he was telling a story. He remembers his first conversation with Rey and smiles.

By now, he knows her adoptive mother taught her how to cook and her adoptive father, a school teacher, told her how he built a relationship with his pupils. He knows they left her one by one, because sometimes, when one heart falls silent, another inevitably stops too. He knows after that she read 30 books in one month. He knows flowers in her house would never die: dried petals and leaves are carefully tucked between pages of her favorite books.

By now, she knows Mr. Pio introduced classical music to him and he discovered the harmony created by wood and iron. She knows he hates drawing attention when it’s not related to his job. She knows that phrase about the odds belongs to his father and that this slogan for the _Falcons_ became one of the most memorable in _Corellia_ ’s brand history. She guesses right that this is his way of showing he appreciates their efforts to restore family relations in the last few years.

And speaking of family: two days before the launch of the _Falcons G8_ , he gets an official birthday video invitation from Emma. Standing in the middle of her room, her hands hidden behind her back, her voice cheerful, his niece tells him she and her mommy will hold a party next Sunday at 5 p.m.

“Uncle Ben, I hope your lunch will go well and you will take me to your car plant!” she giggles, wrapping her speech. The record ends with a loud ‘ _No’_ from Kaydel.

As far as he knows, _Corellia_ organizes special tours of its plant for children, but this is supposed to be his present for her 14th birthday. Ben laughs before putting his phone down and returning to the documents on his desk. To be honest, he expected Emma to mention Rey, but it seems like she remembered what he told her one day, gently but firmly: they wouldn’t fall in love and get married after just one dance in the park like in rom coms.

The night before what they all call ‘ _the nestlings’ shower’_ , he gets two more calls: from his parents who now are on the long-awaited tour of the Lake Country (and wishing him luck, they are definitely going to watch an online stream), and one from Rey, who finally returned to Coruscant.

“It’s not _Harry Potter_ , but you could still add some magic to your speech,” she tells him, a smile in her voice teasing but kind. “May the odds _never_ be with you.”

Ben ruffles his hair, his softened gaze traveling across his printed copy of a Q&A, to Emma’s framed drawing of a dark-haired man standing by something that looks like a silver boot.

“Thanks. Did you get your invitation to the party of the year?”

“Yes. Bother, but I’ll be late... Enric Pryde himself will present his final book about the crew of the _Steadfast_ , and I’ll have to help move the chairs.”

“Then your present must be really amazing.”

“Don’t worry, it will be,” snorts Rey. “And you, Ben, already know what it is.”

“Cinnamon rolls?” he asks, and she laughs. “I can call amazing so many things about...”

He doesn’t let the last deceptive word leave his lips, a knot of panic twisting in his stomach. His mind is quick to find safer words, and he says them without any pause.

“Yours and Emma’s friendship.”

After a long pause, she replies, unbearably softly, “Same about you two.”

When the call ends, Ben takes a deep breath, trying to calm down the crazy mess of old fears and new hopes fighting against each other and bringing heat to his cheeks. He must have known where he would be when he asked her, warm and dazzling like sunlight, to dance.

Sunday. He will give himself till this Sunday, which means three whole days, and this decision feels like a cool breeze of clarity flying through the battlefield. He will see her and maybe, _probably,_ finally ask her out.

He has never been happier to see an urgent email from Armitage in his inbox.

**24 hours later**

_“12 seconds for the Kessel run? You showed them all, kid! Good job.”_

_“My dear, you were amazing. I would buy this new car right now.”_

_“Mommy found your video. You looked serious and so cool in that suit, Uncle Ben!”_

_“Nice hair, Ben! Honestly, why did you ever need that long speech?”_

Rey’s text is followed by his picture from the conference.

_“You can tell me any odds, Ben Solo, and I wouldn’t mind.”_

.

“Uncle Ben!”

Ben barely has time to adjust 2 large bouquets of roses and lilies and a bag in his hands before the little battering ram of his niece crashes into his legs and wraps them in a tight hug.

“Happy birthday, princess!” he leans down and kisses her pink cheek. “What is it, perfume?”

“ _Chandrila Vanilla_! Mommy gave it to me. And dad sent me a pretty doll.”

“What a good dad,” replies Ben, repressing his anger toward the bastard. Kaydel snorts while taking the flowers from him.

“He has also paid for pizza and movie tickets for her friends this morning, but he doesn’t know it,” she whispers.

He hears her gasp when she finds a stuffed white envelope in her bouquet and quickly withdraws to Emma’s room to avoid any usual protests; he had promised to braid his niece’s hair before the other guests’ arrival. Among his other presents are a _Falcon_ brand key chain and pillow, two action figures of droids from the animated series and a long-awaited dress with blue butterflies he has already washed so she could wear it today.

“Miss Niima will be here,” Emma informs him, looking at their reflections in the mirror. “She said she would be happy to see you. And will you be happy to see her?”

Ben suppresses a sigh, combing her hair with his fingers, his lips pursed. “I think yes – as well as your mom’s other friends.”

“But you didn’t dance with _them_ in the park.” Emma reminds him.

Something tells him it’s not a good idea to let his seven-year-old niece know more, but it is his past experience in relationships suggests keeping Rey safe from gossip.

“Yes, I didn’t. And this dance is our shared secret. Okay?” he arches his eyebrow at her reflection in the mirror. He knows she likes shared secrets.

“Okay.”

Finn and Poe come first, carrying a colorful necklace and bracelets from Ajan Kloss, as well as adventurous stories with them. Jannah, Jessica, and Tallie, Kaydel’s old friends, bring a chocolate-strawberry cake, a pink violet in a pot, and even more new clothes. All guests get busy enough to keep track of time, and finally, Ben feels warmth filling his chest as Rey walks into the apartment, with a bundle of colorful balloons, a pile of comics about _Galactic Droids_ and...

“My-own-watermelon-purseeeeeee!” Emma screams, jumping up on her toes and throwing her fists up in the air, repeating _‘yesyesyesyesyesyes’_. Freeing Rey from her embrace, she wastes no time to adjust a small piece of watermelon over her blue dress.

“I don’t think we should worry about Emma’s wardrobe in the near future,” notes Kaydel.

While everybody is laughing, Rey winks at Ben and smiles, as if they two have a special secret. He can’t take his eyes off her, deaf to the noise around. Today she’s wearing a long green dress with thin straps that shows off her tiny waist and bright hazel eyes. Only when someone by her side starts moving does Ben notice she didn’t come alone.

“We met in front of the building, can you believe it? She almost choked me with her balloons!” explains Beaumont Kin, adjusting a guitar case on his shoulder and sending Rey his trademark look and smile.

Ben can practically feel the corners of his lips pulling down. Kaydel didn’t tell him Kin was already back in Coruscant.

He has had the misfortune of coming across Kaydel’s college friend before, making sure they would never get along. Kin’s life goal is always being in the spotlight, and he can’t live without mentioning his underground music band for an hour. He also never loses an opportunity to remind everybody how many cool friends he has thanks to his talent, charm and repartee. Ben was told about a significant number of women that had already found him handsome, and he has a bad feeling that Kin doesn’t see any reason why a new person in their company can’t join this club.

Rey, probably unsuspecting, introduces herself to Kaydel’s other friends and cooes over Emma’s other presents, as well as her dress and the braids in her crown that Ben has done in several different styles.

“You have a pretty cute hobby, Ben,” Kin snorts, placing a chair at the free corner of the sitting room where they all gather before taking out his guitar from its case.

“It’s called love, Beaumont,” he replies, his face a calm mask strengthened by Rey’s recent warm look.

Kin just shakes his head, the response Ben was prepared for, but what happens next makes him clench his fists behind his back. Kin, his acoustic guitar already in his lap, reaches out to Rey.

“You promised to assist me, don’t think I’d forget it!” he calls, his smile blinding. “Come on, we’re here for Emma!”

Followed by curious gazes, Rey slowly puts the handmade bracelet from Ajan Kloss back on the end table and goes to stand next to him. When she catches Ben’s eye, her smile is shy.

“This is for our little princess who can always be sure of her hair,” Kin announces, jokingly bowing to Ben.

He doesn’t have time to reply, because then Kin starts playing and Rey starts singing ‘ _A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes’_ , and he can’t make himself lift a finger. Her quiet voice is trembling a bit, perhaps because she can’t stop smiling at Emma, but it’s still nice, deep and magical, and by the time the song ends and everybody applaud, Emma rushing to hug them both, Ben feels like he has just returned from the world only Rey can show him. Releasing a deep breath, she takes a canapé from the table, stroking Emma’s hair with her free hand.

Ben smiles, taking a step towards her across the room, but…

“You were gorgeous, Rey! So good for a newbie. Actually, do you know where I played this guitar just yesterday?..” Kin leads her to the couch to sit next to Jessica and Jannah, needing no answer to keep talking. And Ben suddenly gets caught by Finn and Poe who want to know more about _Falcon G8_.

“Ben, I read that its hull is so tough that the risk of injury for passengers in an accident is minimal thanks to the hidden panels you call shields. What are they made of?” Finn asks.

“I’d have to kill you if I told you about it,” Ben says, causing a burst of laughter from the couple (and Emma who has no idea what they’re talking about, but sits with her form pressing to his side). “But what I can say...”

Words leave his lips automatically, his mind occupied with other thoughts that become clearer with every laugh from the other side of the room. Once Ben starts on this path of self-flagellation, he can’t stop it.

It wouldn’t be a surprise if she liked him, actually. His band performs concerts in clubs in different cities (and Kijimi too) and he probably knows everything about modern music. He never hesitates before replying and, somehow, they find it funny. He can ask a stranger to sing with him several minutes after they met. He knows how to make people like him. And no matter what a stoopa Kin is now, he can be better with Rey – because she can make anything better, because she revives books with the power of her voice, because she made him want to dance and leave his shell one more time.

_“Why are you upset, actually?”_ the awakened inner voice asks him. _“You knew how it could end. You claimed you’d be happy anyway, because memories will never fade. Remember you should **always** be ready, because…”_

The next thought reminds him of the fourth case in the world when he has to feel himself powerless. _They will find better._

Between heartbeats, Ben can feel a familiar crack spreading across his heart like tree roots, cold and rough; moving further, they tighten their grip on his chest. But his face is calm, his voice is even, and he wasn’t so focused on the engine, transmission and other parts of the _Falcons_ at the press conference days ago.

After what feels like hours, he hears Kaydel’s voice.

“Uncle Ben! I need your help in the kitchen.”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Ben takes the last bite of tasteless rotisserie chicken from his plate and leaves the couch to follow her, hearing Emma’s exciting giggles behind his back. Passing by Rey, he sees her and the other women reading the screen of Kin’s phone and quickens his steps. The lights around suddenly become too bright, the noises loud and irritating, but it’s Emma’s birthday, and he won’t upset her.

He and Kaydel put seven candles on the top of the cake and light them, and Ben replies to her that yes, everything is fine and their little girl loves all her presents, as they take out cups and saucers. He goes first to turn the light off, and then Kaydel enters the sitting room carrying the birthday cake and singing _‘Happy birthday to you’_ along with everybody. He meets Rey’s eyes, illuminated by little flashes of light; she smiles, and his lips reciprocate, ignoring his heart, just because it’s her. Emma blows candles on her cake after casting a curious glance at Ben, and then they all applaud and drink champagne or lemonade for her and Kaydel.

Kin, more cheerful and enthusiastic than ever, already calls Rey back to him, and Ben is quick to offer his help with taking leftovers back to the kitchen.

“Bring more fruit, okay?” Kaydel asks him, pointing at two bowls before heading towards the sitting room with a kettle. Finally alone, Ben leans against a windowsill, lowering his head, and focuses on a carved glass in his hand, golden sparks of bubbles of lemonade flying upwards only to disappear on the surface seconds later.

Through the wall, he hears new bursts of laughter and drains his glass, the lemon beverage fizzing on his tongue. When he drops his hand, he sees Rey entering the kitchen, carrying an empty champagne bottle. He would leave the kitchen, if he didn’t notice an expression of pure relief on her face.

“Dear God, I’m so glad you’re here!” she whispers, putting it in a bin before turning to face him, her wavy hair shimmering in the yellow light of a lamp.

Ben blinks, his brows knitting together. Glad?

“Everybody is nice, but I was trying to find an excuse to sneak away from Kin – and then Kaydel said something about fruit and I noticed an empty bottle and voila!” she warily shakes her head and rearranges jogan fruits in the bowl on the countertop. “I just wanted to be friendly, ‘cause he got lost in my balloons – jeez, it was so strange – but he decided I’m striving to be his fan or girlfriend, I dunno. I didn’t tell him anything about myself save for my name and job, but I know _everything_ about his band, guitars and, somehow, _band T-shirts_? Then he decided to show us the lyrics of his new song, and this was the last straw. Ben, he made three mistakes in _‘atmosphere’_ , can you believe it?!”

She groans, finishing her speech, pressing her hand to her forehead.

“Honestly? Yes. Spelling is a small thing for music stars,” Ben replies, bending over to put the empty glass in a sink. He hears his own voice somewhere in the distance, cold roots in his chest slowly melting away, but he doesn’t feel himself fully relax.

“Then I will never be able to fully appreciate his talent. But there is definitely one good thing about him,” Rey notes, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. “I’ve never had a boyfriend, but he made it clear I definitely have a type. And it’s NOT him.”

“And who is your type?” Ben blurts out after a long pause, swallowing a lump in his throat. She tilts her head at him, considering his question, and the smile that blooms on her lips makes his heart race.

“Understanding”, she says, looking directly into his eyes, punctuating the breaks in her sentence with little nods, “gentle – and oh, of course – tall.”

If someone asked Ben at this moment what his name is or what this city is, he couldn’t tell them. His mind goes absolutely blank, and he feels his jaw slack before it clenches up again. Rey’s gaze lowers to his lips before she takes a step towards him. He can see every tiny freckle on her nose and cheeks, pale pink after champagne, and runs his hand through his hair, bringing himself back to his senses.

“I definitely prefer dark hair over blonde. I also find it cute when he doesn’t like to show off, even if he has a good reason. And the hottest thing about him is,” she says, raising her chin and getting more into his personal space, “being a strong man, he is not afraid of being soft because he _cares_ – and sometimes braids the hair of a little girl.”

Ben has to force himself to stand still, but he has no power over his heart anymore, thundering against his ribcage, whole again and loud enough to silence all the sounds around them, including his merciless inner voice. A smile breaks out on his lips, real but coy, and then Rey takes his hand, her thumb stroking his palm. This small touch slowly brings some of his higher brain functions back.

“What if he said it was serious to him?” he finds himself asking. Her other hand travels up to his shoulder, and he can feel her fingertips tremble.

“I would say that’s exactly what I am looking for,” she replies, holding his gaze. His heart under her palm stutters, and he can swear her hand strokes his chest before moving upwards.

“And what if he… he invited you for caf?”

“I’d say yes. But he should let me bring my cinnamon rolls,” she whispers with a smirk.

“He will,” promises Ben.

They are standing in Kaydel’s small kitchen still smelling of rotisserie chicken and fruit, and there are people in the next room who could miss them at any moment. Still, when Ben lowers his head and captures her lips with his, it seems like the best thing he could do.

It’s been a long time since he kissed someone, but nothing he has felt before can even get close to kissing Rey. His hand rises to touch her neck and cheek in a blind attempt to keep this new, enchanting sensation that just one chaste kiss has elicited. Rey puts both hands on his shoulders, pulling him closer, and Ben feels something inside him settle into place, as if they were made to find and hold each other like that. He dares to deepen the kiss, his free hand on her tiny waist, feeling her ribs through the thin, soft cotton, and she lets him do that with a quiet sigh, her fingers curling at the collar of his T-shirt.

Somewhere beyond the feeling of her champagne tasting lips and warm skin, he hears a high _‘I’ll go get them!’_ A small part of his mind that still functions warns him it refers to him and Rey, and he pulls away from her, eyes darting from her parted lips to hazel eyes, bright with tenderness.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a small figure in blue storming into the kitchen and freezing at the countertop. Emma, the very image of pure delight with her mouth pop open and eyes bulging, watches them quickly step away from each other and drop their hands, too late to pretend nothing happened. Rey grabs one bowl with jogan fruit like an appeasement, and Ben, overwhelmed with a mix of various feelings, from afterglow to panic, finally presses his finger to his mouth, whispering _‘Please’_.

“Of course,” Emma breathes, as if in a daze, still staring at them. “It works... I won’t say a word, ever!”

She turns away and runs back to the sitting room, Ben and Rey wasting no time to follow her, each one carrying a full bowl of fruit.

“Any ideas?” Ben whispers, referring to Emma’s strange behavior. Rey shakes her head, looking equally puzzled.

“Did you get lost, guys?” Kaydel asks them, raising her eyebrows at them. Next to her, Emma already wolves down her large piece of birthday cake.

“Yeah, Rey told me about cinnamon rolls,” Ben says without blinking an eye, rounding the table to get to his place.

“And I was wondering how they would taste with some jogan fruits,” Rey adds, taking one before plopping down on a chair.

After receiving a satisfying explanation, the other guests return to their pieces of cakes. Emma acts like any carefree and happy girl on her seventh birthday that _didn’t_ catch her uncle and her adult friend kissing in a kitchen. Ben should probably blush or feel embarrassed, awkward while trying to guess what she will do next – but he doesn’t. Instead, he feels _calm_ – calm and relieved, as if that kiss tore out the roots of the fear that had been growing inside him on the poison his insidious inner voice dripped there. The voice has gone too, turned away by Rey’s lips caressing his. He takes a sip of tea, hiding his smile.

.

Ben has already noticed that Emma has her own concept of time, but today she starts yawning and leaning to her mother’s shoulder with a tired expression on her face too early even by her standards.

“Two parties in one day is too much, guys,” explains Kaydel with an apologizing smile, when their guests take a hint and announce one by one they’re about to leave.

“It’s okay, she will learn!” promises Kin with a grin that Ben finds matching the face of a gremlin on his band T-shirt. In the foyer, waiting for his turn to hug and kiss Emma, Kin nods at Rey. “Girls and I are heading to the club. Wanna join us? I can give you a ride home if you’re going our way.”

“No, thanks,” Rey replies politely, “I’ll make it home by myself.”

For a moment, Kin looks ridiculously stunned, and Ben can hardly suppress a snort.

“Oh, okay. The club manager is my friend, and maybe I’ll perform tonight too,” Kin informs Jessica and Tallie who accompany him in a casual way, but Rey ignores such an enticing bait, bending down to hug Emma.

“Hardly anything could compare to your performance today, Beaumont,” Ben amiably says, gesturing towards his niece. Under everybody’s kind laughs, the underground rock star leaves with a crooked smile, followed by the other guests.

“You really don’t need help?” Ben asks Kaydel, holding a sleepy Emma in his arms and kissing her forehead.

“No. The dishwasher is full, and my daughter is seven and can handle herself,” she chuckles.

“Okay. Sweet dreams, my dear,” he says before letting Emma down. She waves at him and Rey, adjusting her watermelon purse and yawning.

They two come down the stairs slowly, letting the other guests get far ahead. Poe and Finn wave goodbye before heading towards their car, and Jannah is getting in a taxi.

“Do you know what Emma said to me when we hugged?” Rey asks Ben, watching Beaumont, Tallie and Jessica leaving a parking lot in his shining scarlet VCX pickup. _‘"Maybe the dancing in the park is not over yet, Miss Niima?’"_

Ben stumbles, feeling his ears burning.

“She…” he starts, having no idea what exactly he wants to say about his niece.

“Two birds, one stone?” prompts Rey. “Anyway, I don’t know if I want to go and check if she’s right.”

“I think we can try,” Ben says, seeing a question in her eyes. “My _Falcon_ is here, and after that I can drive you home.”

He offers her his hand, and she takes it, interlacing their fingers and smiling, and they go to his car, the older brother of _Falcon G8_. Starting the engine, Ben listens to his gut: still no hints of worry. Everything feels… good. Right.

It’s hard to kiss when they both are buckled up, so Rey traces her fingers up and down his hand that doesn’t hold the wheel, and tells him about Pryde’s crazy fans that didn’t let him go until he would sign all copies of his last book. Ben smiles, his eyes glued to the road ahead, his heart beating to its own rhythm of happiness somewhere over the moon.

As soon as he parks not so far from the illuminated dancing ground, she wastes no time to unbuckle her belt and lean forward, crushing her lips to his, fingers tangled in his hair. From the quiet, delightful moan in the back of her throat, he guesses she wanted to do that earlier but was afraid to expose them. Now there is no one they should care about, and these realizations elicit a wave of thrill that passes through his body, his hands sliding up and down her narrow waist. When she pulls away to take a breath, he shifts to leave kisses on her cheek and soft skin under her jaw, finding there faint floral notes of her perfume.

Her back arches to his touch, and she pulls back, giggling and lifting his chin from her neck with her fingers.

“Easy, honey,” murmurs Rey. He must look amazed, because then she pecks his lips and giggles again. “I may sound silly, but I have been calling you that in my head. It is the color of your eyes in the light. Brown… or amber… with those golden sparks…”

She strokes his cheek, trying to find more words. Ben feels his heart literally _ache_ at the need to kiss her again, and this ends with her back almost pressed to the door. Only when his spine begins to hurt does he straighten up in his seat, taking her with him. They look at each other, her hands on his biceps, his fingers caressing the small of her back, and he reminds himself again and again that _yes_ , she is real, and she’s here with him and he can kiss her, and touch, and see her. _This_ is what is definitely silly, but he doesn’t care.

“Rey, sweetheart…” manages Ben, feeling a little dizzy, and oh, how she smiles at this word, like something she’s never heard before, “may I have this dance?”

He jerks his head towards the quiet music from afar. They get out of the car, and he makes Rey put on the jacket he grabbed from the back seat, because it got colder and seeing her in his clothes brings a new pleasant sensation to his stomach. The sleeves are too long, and she has to roll them up to see her palms again.

“God, do you really have to be so _big_?” This might sound disapproving, if there was not a smile playing on her parted lips.

Holding hands, they go through a lawn to join several couples on the dancing ground. They don’t know this new song, a woman’s voice claiming her agony fades away in someone’s embrace, but it’s beautiful and they like it.

They don’t play with each other anymore, Ben firmly wrapping his arms around her waist, Rey throwing hers around his neck, and they sway together, seeing no one around, feeling only each other under the night sky.

As the song goes on, Rey begins to hum, nuzzling at his chest, her fingers slowly tapping at his bare skin. Ben feels goose bumps erupt up his neck that have nothing to do with the coolness of this summer night.

_‘Make my heart a better place,_

_Give me something I can believe…’_

It feels so natural to kiss her soft chestnut hair, breathing in the mix of the sweet scent of her shampoo and the leather notes of his cologne from his jacket – and then her freckled nose when she looks up at him with such an expression that his heart hammers faster, and, finally, her lips, already shaped to receive his kiss.

The song is not a distraction – on the contrary, all his senses get heightened by the sounds of drums and violins and the pleading voice, as if he had been waiting for something and here it is, beckoning him and teasing with every blind movement of her fingers through his hair, and he’s already so close…

When the song ends, they freeze too, still holding each other.

“Who inspired this?” Rey quips, remembering their old discussions.

Ben chuckles. “No idea.”

The lights are dim, and people around them begin to drift away. They slowly go back to his car, his arm wrapped around her shoulders, her fingers stroking his side, as if they were both trying to make up for all these days they didn’t touch each other.

He said he would drive her home, and he will. But just the thought of watching her leave any time soon tugs at his heart, making him feel bereft in advance. He frowns, pulling her closer to his chest, wondering if he will do it right and cause no harm.

“You know, Rey,” Ben starts quietly, stopping them both in front of his car, “I have a very good caf machine.”

Rey stills and raises her head to look at him, waiting.

“So, if it would be okay with you – before returning home – to drink caf with me and without cinnamon rolls, I suggest…”

He sounds too serious even to his own ears, and Rey interrupts him with a quiet laugh. She frees herself from his embrace, and her hands cup his cheeks.

“ _Ben_ ,” she looks him in the eye, and it feels like the sun’s up over the area. “Of course it’s okay. You will be enough.”

That is probably too much excitement for one day, Ben decides; that’s why just a simple talk about coffee makes his mind melt. He feels like he would shatter into little pieces on the spot right now if she wasn’t holding him. He doesn’t dare to move as she strokes the moles on his cheeks with her thumbs, studying his face with tender curiosity, as if trying to read his mind.

“Shall we go, then?” she asks, nodding towards his car.

He starts the engine to take them both home, fully understanding that, from now on, he would go wherever she goes.

**8 months later**

Emma holds her chin high, feeling the eyes of all present on her. Her long light blue dress rustles while she slowly walks down, the golden waves of her hair barely touching petals of white gardenias in her firm grip. She tries her best to school her face, but one look at her uncle in a black elegant suit nervously running a hand through the lush waves of his hair before clenching it together with its partner – and she grins, enjoying his impatience.

On her seventh birthday, when she had seen him and Rey in the kitchen (she had watched enough films and animated series to know they had _kissed_ and her uncle had definitely missed her more than any other guest) was the last day she was asked to keep a secret.

She recognized Uncle Ben’s jacket on Rey when she posted a story in Instaholo with the caption _‘I smell leather, wood… and cardamom? Sorry, I’m taking this’_ the night after the party; and then there were more no-secrets, to her delight and her mother’s surprise, that she found impossibly funny.

A cup of coffee _‘from my personal barista’_ with a man’s hand in the background.

Rey’s smiling face, one cheek pressed to someone’s broad chest, raven locks covering the face of a man who kisses her crown.

Two joint hands in front of the screen of what looks like Uncle Ben’s TV. A bouquet of flowers in the morning light. Two copies of _The Night Circus_ they read in their bed. A lunch with Han and Leia, and then with Emma and Kaydel. A half empty plate with cinnamon rolls. A surprise dinner at the restaurant _‘because someone returned from his business trip a day early and ruined my dream of playing a chef’_ . The Christmas tree they decorated with colorful lights and glinting glass ornaments.

More pictures of Rey in the park, movie theater, in a street, smiling and thoughtful, with books and coffee, taken by someone who definitely loves her. There was only one pic with Uncle Ben who finally stopped hiding and stood behind Rey in front of a mirror, his hand covering her belly, his lips kissing her temple. The caption was simple: _‘Love of my life.’_

Besides those little signs of love, there were meetings, of course. Much to Emma’s displeasure, Uncle Ben and Rey (she asked Emma to call her Rey) didn’t kiss in front of her, but they couldn’t stop their hands from touching each other from time to time. Uncle Ben wasn’t as serious as before anymore and smiled at Rey’s laugh. But what has been surprising Emma most for all these months is that strange connection she sees between them two. They could stand in different ends of the room, or she could be walking with Rey and leave Uncle Ben behind so he could answer his colleague’s call – but one look from one to another makes it clear they are _together_. She can’t explain this intriguing thing intrinsic to some movie characters, but the fact that _she_ helped them find each other makes her extremely proud.

“She’s beautiful, Uncle Ben,” she whispers to him before standing next to Kaydel. He smirks, his best man Armitage playfully elbowing him.

There is no need to look at the opposite end of the hall to know Rey is now walking down the aisle to the soft piano music. Her groom takes the smallest step toward her, his hands relaxing, his face lighting up with a soft, real smile with dimples on his cheeks. Emma cranes her neck to look at Rey one more time.

Uncle Ben would help her get even the most expensive and luxurious dress if she wanted. But now, noticing tears in his eyes, Emma guesses Rey made the right choice. Her simple tulle dress is snow white and one-shouldered, with the statement full skirt and a string of tiny pearls as a waist-belt. Her chestnut curls are covered by a thin hip veil, embellished with pearls too.

Emma takes a few steps forward to take her bouquet – white freesias and pale roses – and Rey thanks her, turning away from her future husband for a few seconds. He looks enchanted, breathing through his mouth, touching the hem of her veil with his trembling fingers.

“You are so beautiful, sweetheart,” Emma hears his whisper. The look Rey gives him is full of the love that gives you goosebumps if you happen to be fortunate enough to witness it.

“So are you, honey,” replies Rey with a wink, and he sobs, quickly wiping his eyes.

Intertwining their fingers, they keep looking at each other during the priest’s long speech, as if there is no one else in the whole universe, their eyes glittering and lips softening. Somehow they manage to say _‘I do’_ in time and take the rings from Armitage. They’re simple, just two golden bands, Rey’s one joining the engagement ring with a sunstone Ben gave her on Christmas. They spent it alone, but Emma managed to see the ring the next day.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Ben pulls Rey to him by the waist before the priest ends the last sentence and crushes his lips to hers. Her arms automatically loop around his neck, her fingers buried in his hair.

Emma can swear she hears Han Solo’s whistle among the chuckles and appreciative applause of the other guests, and is ready to join him. They just pecked each other’s lips under the mistletoe months ago, but _this_ is a real kiss, she thinks, watching the newlyweds smile at each other like suns, their faces still very close.

And she dares anyone to say to her that birthday wishes don’t work.

**Author's Note:**

> I strongly recommend to read the book I mentioned, The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern. It's gorgeous.  
> The songs Ben and Rey danced to are Turning Page by Sleeping At Last and All I Need by Within Temptation. The line from this beautiful song also happens to be a title of this fic <3


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